


Love Hurts (Like a bitch)

by RemySilverwing



Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, BAMF Waylon, Body Dysphoria, Characters are a little OOC, De-aged sorta, Dependant Waylon, Eddies' a gentleman, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, FTM Waylon, Gonna get dark pretty fast, Graphic Depiction of gore, Hurt/Comfort, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Independant Waylon, Kidnapping, M/M, Mentions of Murder, Might add more tags as i go, Multi, Murder, Mutilation, Oblivious Miles, Slowish build, Sweet Waylon, Trans Character, WaySkin relationship, hold on to your seats, some Frat boys in the beginning, untill he's not
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-05-18
Packaged: 2018-03-20 01:21:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3631320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RemySilverwing/pseuds/RemySilverwing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Waylon gets dragged out to a college frat party when all he wants to do is study for exams. but it's not all bad a night. He meets Eddie there, and  when he offers Waylon companionship, they hit it up. Waylon's kind of sick how people treat him, so when Eddie shows an understanding hand, he can't help but slowly fall for him. But things never go right for Waylon, and soon he's faced with a crazed lover who would do anything (He means ANYTHING) to make him happy, a few oblivious friends, and those stupid essays to write. damn, why does college have to be so hard??<br/>~The college au of WaySkin nobody asked for, but I really wanted to write. Also, note that Waylon is Trans in this story, and it will get dark (Because Eddie has to be Eddie). it's not what your thinking though.<br/>so Enjoy!! ^~^</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sweetheart

**Author's Note:**

> OK, so I literally wrote this chapter all in one night. And I'm pretty proud to contribute to the Outlast fandom. cause really, it's so under-loved. I hope you enjoy, and note that if anything gruesome happens, I will let you know. plus, you'll see it coming, but i'll still let you know. Thankyou!  
> This chapter is pretty safe, just a normal night for Waylon.

Waylon Park was not happy.  
Because time and again he is forced to interact with those of the outside world, when personally, he’d much rather stay in his dorm and focus on that damned final exam for Physics. But due to one certain Miles Upshur he is faced with the reality that you cannot avoid people in this day and age.  
It was late October, and the end of the semester was nearing, stocked full with tests and exams from lazy professors. Then again, Waylon did choose to go to Colorado State and not Yale. He had three papers do by Monday, and had only started on the first-wait, no he had one paragraph- he reminds himself.   
A breeze catches on Waylon’s hair, ruffling the soft blond strands and causing his shoulders to hunch inwards. Did he mention he hated going outside? But for all his nagging and complaining, he still finds himself unable to resist Miles puppy dog face and innocent enthusiasm to always go out and party.  
It’s for journalism, he claims. By now, Waylon knows better. Miles just goes for the rush of college age kids testing out the adult world. Not that Waylon’s any different. Graduating high school at the age of sixteen, he’s spent the last four years doing odd jobs dealing with broken tech and getting no respect. So he figured, why not enroll into college, might as well get a degree for these smarts.  
And thus, leads him here, headed out to a frat party with Miles speeding ahead, camera in hand, and chattering back to an un-listening Waylon about how fun the parties gonna be.  
Waylon huffs, if anything, amused by watching someone so excited just to watch drunken frat boys and record it. The dorm holding the party is only a block away from their shared one, and it’s not long before they walk up to a yard littered with trash and loud music playing into the night air.   
“This is gonna be great!” Miles yells over his shoulder, leading the way past tipsy college boys (and even some girls have come). Waylon is less eager to plunge into the mass of party-going but he just sighs deeply before pushing past dancing and humping couples into the dorm. As expected, it’s even more packed inside, and the music is blaring at Waylon’s eardrums- some sort of techno music.  
“HEY, I’M GONNA FIND LISA, OK! DON’T FORGET TO LET GO SOME TONIGHT WAY, THIS IS A NIGHT TO HAVE FUN!” Waylon barely catches on to what Miles’ is saying, before he sees Miles turn and disappear into the crowd.  
“Wait! Ugh Miles, don’t you dare-“But he’s already gone, off to find Lisa his girlfriend. For a moment, Waylon just stands there, struck by how fast he just got ditched at a party he didn’t even want to go to in the first place. Someone knocks into his shoulder, pushing his smaller frame into anther body, and pushed once more.  
Finally, after multiple dodges and close-calls Waylon slinks his way through the rooms and into what appears to be the dining area. It’s less crowded in here, and people are just sitting and drinking out of red plastic cups. It stills smells to high heaven of sweat and alcohol but for now its fine. So Waylon does what he does best and just observes. He sees a few familiar faces, but none so recognizable as to call ‘frineds’. It’s sad to say, but Miles is his only real friend.  
And you just got ditched by him. Great.  
As Waylon watches the party-goers, hands stuffed in his red hoodie pockets and shoulders hunched, he catches a glimpse a more familiar face. Jeremy Blaire.  
Tall but not skinny-tall, head cropped with short black hair and a light dusting of stubble on his jawline, Jeremy is rather normal looking. Wearing a blue polo shirt and tan trousers, he looks almost too fancy for this party. Across the room, their eyes meet, and Waylon only has moment to think oh shit, before Jeremy is headed in his direction, a red cup of alcohol in hand.  
Waylon thinks about just leaving. Just turn and walk straight out, go back to his dorm room and work on his essays and worry about dealing with a whiney Miles later. But pride wins out, and Waylon is sick of dodging this asshole. It seems as if Jeremy literally slinks over to Waylon, easily making it to him, and almost immediately invading personal space.  
“Hey there, Park. Haven’t seen you around in a while.” He says. His breath smells of beer, (and maybe even weed) and up close Waylon can see the coldness in Jeremy Blaire’s blue eyes.  
“Blaire.” Waylon simply replies. In no mood to cause trouble or interest Jeremy further, Waylon goes for a nonchalant attitude and continues to look out at the room. No one seems to notice the two men standing against the wall, the short blond standing stiffly next to a drunken invader.   
“What? No hello?” he sneers. Waylon’s eye twitches.  
“What do you want me to say, Jeremy? We both know you’re just over here to antagonize me.”  
Jeremy huffs, a puff of his beer-stenched breath ghosting over Waylon’s cheek. He tries not to shudder openly.  
“So now you’re too good for me? Hah. That’s laughable coming from the trans-“  
“Jeremy I swear to god I will fucking punch you if you don’t get out of my face.” Waylon says, eyes hardened with anger and body language taught for a fight.  
Jeremy stalls for a second, before narrowing his eyes and leaning down to eyes level with Waylon.   
“You couldn’t take me on even if you wanted, girly~”  
Jeremy never sees the fist coming.  
There’s commotion after Jeremy hits the floor. Waylon doesn’t stick around to see what happens; he just walks out, like he should have in the beginning. Heart beating fast, he makes it to the front porch before he’s stopped.  
“Waylon!”  
It’s Miles.   
Waylon stops, turning around to watch Miles catch up, a brown haired woman in tow behind him. It’s Lisa, and she waits up on the porch as a slightly out of breath Miles walks up to Waylon.  
“Dude, where are you going?” he questions right off the bat.  
“Back to the dorms. Where I wanted to be.” Waylon spits out, anger still flowing through his limbs.  
“Whoa, whoa, why? I thought we were having fun?!” Miles says, a hurt look crossing his unfairly handsome face.  
“YOU were having fun, Miles. You ditched me to snag face with your girlfriend and get drunk.” He pauses for second. “No offence Lisa.” He throws out a second later.  
“None taken.” She says from the steps of the porch.   
Miles at least has the audacity to look guilty, but it passes after a second. “Man. I’m sorry Waylon. I uh…I guess I was just too excited and didn’t think. Look, how about you give me twenty minutes, and then we’ll go home together. I just wanna say goodbye to Lisa. I won’t-“  
“I know,” Waylon cuts in. he sighs, a little exasperated. “Just be quick. My hand is killing me and I’m getting a headache from all the loud music.”  
“Awesome dude. Thank- wait, why does your hand hurt?” Waylon waves his hand into the light, and blood glints off his skin. “Ouch. Ok. I won’t take long! Just sit tight!”  
Waylon just smiles a fake smile, because he’s just too good a person. Miles turns, all problems wiped from his one track mind, and whisks Lisa back into the dorm. As soon as they’re gone, Waylon’s face goes blank, and with yet another deep sigh, sits on the steps of the porch. And sits. And sits. He nervously rubs his bloodied hand.  
A good fifteen minutes have gone by, and Waylon is really just about to leave altogether, when a shadow falls over him. Startled Waylon looks up, but can only see a massive silhouette because of the street lights placing.  
“You okay?” asks the silhouette.  
“Umm. Yeah. Fine.” Waylon says, looking down at the strangers’ feet since everything else is blocked out in shadows. The stranger is wearing some kind of boots, black and simple. They’re big too. Suddenly they’re crouching down to his level, and time seems to freeze. The first thing he takes are the eyes. Strikingly blue, they almost seem to pulse with sincerity. The second thing he can’t help but notice, are the scars running along the right side of the strangers’ face. They look old, but are a darker color than the rest of his skin. He has a strong jaw and nose, and the sides of his hair are shaved off, leaving a mop of black hair on top that’s neatly groomed. He has a serious look on face, thin lips made thinner.  
“You’re hurt.” It takes Waylon a second to realize the stranger spoke, and when he does, he looks down at his hand like he’d never seen it before.  
“Oh. Um, not really. Just a little scratched up.” Is all he can manage. Waylon’s never been good around strangers. And this particular stranger is setting all sorts of feelings off in Waylon’s gut.  
The man, whom Waylon realizes can’t be much older than himself, rummages around the top vest he’s wearing. The white button up underneath has its sleeves rolled up, and Waylon can’t help but ogle the size of the guys forearms and biceps. Unlike Jeremy, this one can pull off a nice look while at a party.  
The man finds what he’s looking for, and turns to Waylon with a soft smile on his face. He can’t help but think it looks nice on him.   
“Here you go. Let me see your hand.” Without waiting, he takes Waylon’s’ hand in his much bigger one and begins to wrap it in a soft small cloth. It stings as it goes on, but once he has it securely wrapped around Waylon’s hand, it feels a little better. Waylon tries to wipe the surprised look off his face, but it’s hard.  
“Oh. Well thank you?...You really didn’t need to.” He says, trying to get his brain to work. Damn the alcoholic fumes.  
“It’s nothing.” The man says, before coming to sit down on the steps next to Waylon. “So what happened, if I may ask? You don’t have to answer, but you’ll have to excuse my curiosity.”  
An aborted laugh escapes Waylon’s lips, before he replies. “Just a regular day dealing with bigots.” There. Simple. Waylon hopes he’s not coming off as too skittish, but it’s been a long a night.  
“I see.”   
There’s a moment of silence as the two look out into the street, where people are beginning to disperse and leave. Waylon wonders where Miles is. It’s a little awkward, and he doesn’t know what to say, but the stranger seems to be content in sitting with him.  
“So umm. What’s your name?” he tries.  
For a second the guy seems mortified, and Waylon thinks he did something wrong.  
“Dear me. I’m so sorry. I’ve been a horrible helper. My names Eddie.” The man- Eddie- says, turning to me.  
“It’s fine. I’m Waylon.” Waylon gives a small smile to Eddie, if only to make the poor guy feel better. He returns the smile.  
“That’s a nice name.” Waylon tries not to blush too hard, and clears his throat.  
“So…this party huh…”  
OoOoOoOoOo  
It’s a good thirty minutes later when Miles shows his face again. He at least had the decency to come out with a shamed look when he spots Waylon still sitting there.  
But he’s not alone- Eddie agreed that parties weren’t all they were made out to be and things went from there. Funny enough, Eddie was dragged out by a friend as well, a Richard Trager, who’s studying to be a doctor. Eddie explains he’s learning to be a business owner. Waylon was surprised to learn he made his own clothes. Eddie seemed shocked when Waylon asked more about it and was genuinely interested to hear about sewing.  
So when Miles came out, it was reluctantly that Waylon got up to follow. Eddie stood as well, and Waylon tried not to be too obvious in starring at the mans’ height. Tall, broad shouldered, and a sweet personality were going to be the ruin of Waylon. Eddie also seemed reluctant to split ways, but in all honesty, Waylon had enough on his plate. (I.e. essays, classes, sleeping…) So he didn’t offer his number, and neither did Eddie, but they said they hoped to see each other around.  
It wouldn’t be impossible, seeing as the campus wasn’t that big a place. Once Miles and Waylon trudged their way back to the dorms, they split ways, both entering the door opposite from each other. Waylon didn’t even say goodnight to Miles, still mad about what happened tonight.  
It was with tired movements that Waylon shed his clothes, shoes, socks, shirt, and pants. He pauses for a second, stalling as always at the hardest thing to remove. The white binder was snug around his chest- a comfort to Waylon after having it for so long. With reluctance, and a little bit of hatred toward his body, he took the binder off and tossed it on the desk by his bed. He left his boxers on.  
It was times like these, that Waylon remembers why he doesn’t date, and why no one would want to date him. This town was small, and Eddie was sure to be like the rest. Or at least that‘s what Waylon told himself, so rejection at a late date wouldn’t hurt so much.


	2. Just a normal day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Augh, you other Archivers' and Outlast people are my life. I'm loving the feedback, and I now present to you the second chapter, I really hope it keep up with expectations, but I had a lot of fun writing this chap. I'm kind of writing this as I go, but I know what general direction I'm going. Things will pick up after these chapters so enjoy! And thank you so much to those that are commenting, your words fuel my imagination to get in gear!  
> This chapter is safe, no big warnings, but mentions of death and murder (What? In an Outlast story?? preposterous!)

A good solid week went by before Waylon saw Eddie again.  
It was pure coincidence, but not surprising. It was at the local coffee shop that Friday evening and just as Waylon was leaving someone called out to him. He turned and saw Eddie, sitting at a table by the windows and looking at Waylon with a smile on his face.  
After a moment of hesitation, Waylon went over to him, coffee in hand. Eddie was sipping on his own. He noticed Eddie had dressed just as nice as before, this time in a blue button up shirt and black bowtie.   
“Hey Eddie.” Waylon starts once he’s sat. He catches himself staring at eddies’ handsome face. Now that there’s better lighting, Waylon can see all the man’s scars- and he’s still pleasant looking.   
“Doing fine. Coffee person?” he asks, a light tone to his deep voice.  
“Hah. Yeah. You could say that. The cafeteria coffee sucks. I come here when I need a boost.”  
“I will agree with you there. I made that mistake before. Never again.” Waylon smiles a little, still half asleep after a late night of studying but he’s touched by Eddie’s humor. They sit and chat for a while longer, but eventually they both notice the darkening sky.  
They leave together (Waylon finished his coffee within the first ten minutes) and head back to the dorms. Turns out Eddie lives only two houses away.  
They’re in the midst of chatting in front of Eddies’ porch, when the door opens and someone steps out. He’s not fat, but he’s heavy set and tall (not as tall as Eddie, but everyone’s tall in Waylon’s perspective) and has short cropped blond hair and stern features. Waylon feels like he’s seen the man before.  
“Ah. Waylon, this is Chris, one of my roommates.” Eddie says. “Chris, this is Waylon….”  
“Oh. Park. Waylon park.” He catches, shaking Chris’ outstretched hand.  
“Hey there short stuff. I remember you. We had Math’s together last semester.” And yes, Waylon now remembers him. Always quietly in the corner, but a good listener and student. Miles used to call him a stick in the mud.  
“Yeah, now I remember. You’re studying law right?” he asks.  
“Yeah. Senior year now.” He affirms, before turning to Eddie. “Hey, I’m going out tonight, and Trager is out too. If you need the place, it’s yours.” He says with a wink in Waylon’s direction, before heading off.  
Waylon tires to hold back his blush, and fails miserably. Eddie seems miffed too, but at Chris’s actions.  
“Um. I’ve actually got more studying to do tonight.”  
Eddie laughs. “It’s alright. Chris was just ruffling your feathers. Perhaps another night?”  
Waylon smiles, a big genuine one this time, nodding, and heads back to his dorm.  
In the hallway, he sees Mile’s door slightly open. Curious, he walks in, spotting the brunette over at his computer desk.  
Sighing, and deciding to be the better man and let go about what happened at the party, he steps into Miles room, closing the door.  
“Hey, Miles.” He says.  
Miles almost falls out of his seat in surprise, and Waylon has to hold back a laugh, but can’t hide the snicker.  
“Jesus dude! Make a little noise next time! Right now’s not a good time to sneak up on me!” Miles yells out, his hand over his heart. Waylon just raises an eyebrow.  
“Why not? And you totally deserved that.” He says, a smile quirking his lips.  
Miles just glares, before turning back to his laptop. “I know I know. But anyway. I’ve been looking into this story lately, and it’s getting seriously dark. You remember that professor from last year, Mr. Wernicke?”  
Waylon steps next to Miles, looking over his shoulder and at his laptop. All he sees is an open document and what has to be ten tabs open. Figures he’s have even a cluttered computer- his room fares no better.  
Waylon thinks on what Miles asked. “Yeah I remember. He was kind of a jerk. He was failing like half his students.” He says after a moment.  
“Yup.” Miles says, popping the ‘p’ at the end. “And remember how he was suddenly gone after teaching here for like ten years?”  
Waylon does. Last year, his Sophomore year, everyone was saying the Dean just got tired of his attitude and fired him. Or that Wernicke just up and left because he hated the students so much. Waylon never questioned it, and was frankly glad he was gone now. “Yeah. And?”  
“He’s dead.” Miles says after a moment. Waylon stalls, eyes widening in surprise.  
“Well then.” He just says.  
“And it was murder. Seriously, look at all these articles on when they found his body.”  
“I’m going to regret this.” Waylon says under his breath, but leans down to read what Miles has pulled up on his computer.  
It was more than a murder, Waylon thinks. It was a fucking slaughter. Wernicke’s’ body was found by the lake not even four miles away from out of town, his arms cut off and face slashed to ribbons along with the rest of his body. Waylon gagged, but forced himself to read the article.  
….Police found the body of Professor Wernicke late this weekend, torn and mutilated. Ten years a teacher, Rudolf Wernicke was an accomplished man, recently funding his own company, Murkoff Inc. No known enemies, the perpetrator has yet to be found….  
Waylon can’t bring himself to read more, so he just looks to Miles with an incredulous look.  
“This is from five months ago. They still haven’t found who did it, but I think I have a lead. There have been other murders-“  
“Other murders?!” Waylon spits out, shock and a little fear on his face.  
“Oh calm down. The most recent was four months ago.” Miles goes on, like that fact makes it any better. “And it’s weird, because all the others have been random, like tourists gone missing. They never actually found more than an arm or leg.”  
“Cause that makes it so much better.” Waylon says, voice a little higher than usual.  
“The weird thing is that there’s nothing in the news about them, and even in the paper here in town. I asked them about it, and they shut the door in my face, literally and figuratively.”   
“That’s…weird.” Is all Waylon can say. Over his two years here, he’s never once heard of people going missing, much less actual murders going on. Miles just hums in agreement, and he can tell he’s lost him to his investigations. “So, what are you going to do?” Waylon asks, curious himself as to what all this could mean.  
“Not sure. Maybe sneak into the press room, see if they have any old files or papers about Wernicke’s death or the others.”  
“Miles! You could get into trouble for that you know.” he tries to argue.  
“Yeah I know that. But it’s really going to bug me. Look, Way. I came here to be a journalist, and if a little side action from school projects is what it’s gonna take to get me a good solid story, I’m going for it.”  
“Miles…” It’s futile, Waylon knows, but he worries. “I just worry. If there’s seriously a murderer out there, they could be on campus. Or hell, even one of the other professors.”  
Miles gets a shine in his eye. “Oh, good place to start! The professors knew Wernicke better than any of the students!” Miles turns to Waylon, seeing a slightly lost and worried look. “Ugh. I promise to be careful, Waylon. Just back me up on this. I’m not afraid to use the time I helped you through some tough life altering shit.” he tries.  
Waylon can only glare weakly, because it’s true. Miles has been around since before Waylon decided he hated his breasts and the whole stigma that comes with them. Hell, half of Waylon’s’ clothes are from Miles’ old wardrobe.   
“Fiiine.” Waylon says a little exasperatedly. “But if you get in to trouble with the Dean, don’t come crawling to Me.” he says. He turns to leave miles to his research, knowing he won’t be headed out till tomorrow to start investigating. At the door he halts. “But I mean…if you need anything. You know where to find me.”  
“Always. And ditto.” Miles smiles at him, and Waylon just rolls his eyes with his own smirk in place.   
OoOoOoOoOo  
Waylon’s Saturdays normally consist of the entire day spent indoors with Miles. They’d study and argue who had the harder classes (Miles, you couldn’t last one day on my schedule). But today was different, seeing as Miles was out being a journalistic-hero and thus leaving Waylon to stew in the quiet. And that just wouldn’t do.  
Waylon liked his solitary days sure enough, but sometimes his mind wins over and he’ll find himself thinking about all that is wrong with his body. Back, before his decision to transition into male, when he was in therapy, his shrink used to tell him that it was only natural to find faults in your physical self. It was natural for a woman of his age. Waylon walked out on their second session and never came back. Usually, Miles would be there to take his mind off things like that. The man was stubborn, and the day Waylon made the change from she to he, Miles never once slipped up in pronouns. It was sweet, really.   
Around noon, Waylon had had enough of stewing in his own pity and self-hatred, so he took his book bag-that had his school issued laptop and a few miscellaneous things- and headed outside. It was a beautiful day for being so late in October, and he was bound to not waste it.   
The trees had barely started to yellow, so the grounds were still free of fallen leaves, and Waylon found a relatively dirt-free spot and sat at the base of a tree. Not even minutes later, he had his laptop out and a notebook at his side with scribbled notes on the page, intently reading up on the new software Dell had released for extra credit. Sometimes, Waylon didn’t mind so much being the teacher’s pet; he was here on scholarships, so sue him. The work made him feel useful.   
He was just jotting down the key points of paper when a shadow fell over him, and he was forced to look up at the very tall height that was Eddie.  
“We really must stop meeting like this.” Waylon says drably.  
“And you should be more aware of your surroundings.” Eddie replies. There’s a smile on his face, like always, and Waylon can’t stop his own from forming.  
It’s surprisingly easy to begin a conversation again. It surprises Waylon because he just met Eddie, but the man is so easy to get along with. As they talk, Eddie listens patiently, and then gives his own input. He tells Waylon about how his classes are going (I fear my fellow classmates just don’t get style like I do, he says) and vice versa. It’s towards the end of their conversation, that Eddie asks the question.  
“Would you like to have dinner sometime? It’s been so quiet around campus, and Richard and Chris are really the only others I talk to.”  
Waylon stumbles to think of a way to gently deny the offer, but he comes up blank.  
“Umm…well. I’d have to check my schedule you know. And Miles; I’m never sure what he’s up to.” Eddies’ face looks crestfallen- and Waylon just can’t say no to that face. “But I’m sure he’ll live. What night we’re you thinking, and where?”  
Eddie looks like he just got Easter and Christmas all in one, and Waylon can’t help but feel he’s just been guilt into something. But Eddie’s expressions are so genuine, he just lets it go.  
“Monday night. I’ll make dinner. It’s been a while since I’ve cooked, and it would be nice to feed someone other than myself. So my dorm. Or uh, yours if that’s more comfortable for you.”  
“No, no. Your place is fine. Its sounds…like a plan.”  
After the two have split ways, Waylon can’t help but recall how his heart had sped up with hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so, there's a date. But what will happen on that date? Will Eddie cook a masterpiece, or will he judge Waylon for wearing such drab clothes???? Have fun guessing! And again, this isn't beta'd so if there's mistakes, they're all mine.


	3. A Step Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all!!! few notes before we get any further into the story: first, I know nothing about college (which is really sad seeing as I'm a senior getting ready for it) so i'm just making up random classes as I go. Also, the dorms here are more like tiny apartments, except Waylons and Miles (since they're not seniors) so Eddie's place is different (he's a senior in this fic).  
> Also, Eddie has a moment of bigotry, for like three seconds. you're gonna love him, hate him, then love him (Maybe.) I hope I made these scenes believable.  
> thank you so much for the kudos and comments, they mean the world! (I try to reply to everyone, but i'm rather forgetful, so sorry!!) I love you all, and enjoy Eddie and Waylons' date. They sure will ;3

It was Monday night, and Waylon was freaking out.  
No matter what he tired, nothing matched!!  
Never before had he cared what he wore. Just wear what’s comfortable, keep one suit handy, and always wear clean socks. So far, that way of clothing-life has worked for him. Until now.  
He huffed in frustration, tearing off the third (or fifth) shirt so far and tossing it onto his bed. Again, nothing matched! What made him even more irritated was that he was even trying to attempt to look nice.  
It’s not like it’s a date. He tries, and fails, to tell himself. Waylon decides to go with the thought that since Eddie always dresses impeccably, then he can try to as well. As Waylon rummages through yet another drawer of t-shirts and plaid button ups, a knock sounds at the door. He rushes to pull a shirt over his binded chest, thankful he at least has a nice pair of pants on, and looks through the small hole in the door. It’s Miles.  
Not even hesitating, Waylon pulls the door open and walks back over to his dresser. As soon as Miles shuts the door behind him, he shucks his shirt off once more and continues to rummage for something wearable.  
“Wow. Someone’s been busy.” Miles announces as he flops down on Waylon’s bed, thus toppling his growing pile of clothes onto the floor. Waylon glares, before walking into his closet.  
“What did you need Miles? I’m kind of busy at the moment.” More unappealing shirts get tossed on to the floor from within the closet.  
Miles tries not to find Waylon’s strange behavior endearing, but fails. “Just checking up. Haven’t seen you since Friday.”  
“Well that’s completely your fault. I’ve been here the whole weekend, Mr. I’ve-gotta-solve-all-the-worlds-mysteries.” Waylon walks out of the closet, this time wearing a simple blue long sleeve shirt. “Speaking of which, how is that going?” even partially distracted, Waylon WAS curious as to if Miles’ little theories would lead to anything solid.  
“Hah. Not. At. All. Seriously. There’s like nothing-zero-zip-nada on Wernicke or the tourists that I didn’t already find out. Except the murderer…stick with that. Blue’s a nice color on you.”   
Looking in the full sized wall mirror, Waylon knows he can’t really try any harder without actually wearing the suit in his closet.  
“That really sucks. There anything I can do?” Waylon asks, turning to Miles with a serious look.  
“Naw. It’s a dead end for now, but I’m far from giving up on it. What are you doing, by the way?”  
Waylon realizes that he hasn’t told Miles about Eddie. That first night, he had just wanted to go home and forget about the sucky party, so he hadn’t offered their names to each other.   
“I uh, have a date. I mean, its not-“  
“What?! And you didn’t TELL me! Ahh, Way, you’ve got me heartbroken. Who’s the lucky person?” Waylon takes in Miles crooked smile and knows he’s just teasing.  
“Well you haven’t been around for me to tell. His name’s Eddie. We met at that party about a week or so ago.” He says, suddenly a little shy about telling Miles. It’s not like he needs his approval, but it would be nice to have from a longtime friend. Miles still has a smile plastered on his handsome face, before getting up and pulling Waylon into the famous ‘Miles hug of love’. It was warm and comforting, while not overbearing or stifling.  
“I’m happy for you, Way. I know it’s been a while since you’ve put yourself out there since Blaire.” Even at the mention of Jeremy, Waylon still feels relieved by Miles trust in him. Anyone else, and they’d be saying for him to wait a little longer, till he’s settled into the body and mindset he wants, but that’s just not who he is. He knows he’s the kind of person who needs comfort. And sometimes, for all Waylon wouldn’t do for Miles, it helps to have more than one person to confide in.  
“Thanks Miles. For your information, it’s not exactly a date. He just invited me over for dinner. As friends.” Waylon says, pulling reluctantly out of Miles’ warm hold.  
“Riiiight. And I’m not seriously a gender-bend of Louis Lane. C’mon. Was he blushing when he asked you out to ‘Dinner’?”  
Waylon laughs at Miles words, then thinks back. And fuck, he thinks Eddie might have been. Then again, Waylon was too busy thinking in his own mind to really pay attention.  
“Maybe. I wasn’t really paying attention.” He explains.  
“Yeah, too busy blushing yourself.” Waylon balks, smacking Miles’ arm.   
“Yeah, it’s totally a date.”  
OoOoOoOoOo  
An hour or so later found Waylon at Eddies’ dorm door. Nervous and excited at the same time, he fidgeted as he waited for Eddie to answer the door. It wasn’t yet past six, so the sun was still out and the weather relatively cool (he’s glad he went with the blue long sleeve).  
A moment of doubt and insecurity passes Waylon’s mind, long ingrained in him from past experiences of being ditched and or outed by love-interests/crushes. The second the door opens all that’s wiped from his mind, and Eddie is there, in the doorway, looking as striking as always in a trim white shirt and tan pants.   
“Good evening Waylon. You’re just on time.” Eddie says, smiling (When is he ever not?) and gesturing for him to come in. Waylon does, and is surprised at how different Eddie’s dorm is compared to his. All the buildings are the same structurally, but the way Eddie has things set about, it looks completely different. There’s a nice size couch in the center of the room, a deep maroon color, with throw pillows laid on the edges. The coffee table in front of it is mahogany, with bamboo coasters placed on top. The rest of the room is in dark colors as well, like the curtains, but it’s not overly so, and the atmosphere is calming to Waylon. The colors seem…so Eddie.  
Said man is now moving towards the kitchen area, saying something. Waylon focuses back on him.  
“-just out of the oven. Please, take a seat at the table. I’ll bring it out.” Eddie says, already out of sight before Waylon can ask what they’re even having. Waylon does as asked and waits, but not for long, as Eddie brings out two plates, one balanced in each hand and sets it down in the respective spots.  
Waylon is surprised to see spaghetti.   
It’s still warm and steaming, and there’s feta cheese on top, along with parsley. It smells divine.  
“I hope you don’t mind. I wasn’t sure what you would like, so I figured spaghetti was simple enough. Of course I can always whip something else up if you’d prefer something else…”  
“No, no. This looks delicious. I haven’t had this since I moved out from home. Thank you, Eddie.” Waylon placates, because it’s true, and he’s already salivating.  
Eddie smiles and they dig in.  
It’s fucking delicious.   
Waylon’s pretty sure he’s died and gone to food heaven. The sauce is just right, and the amount of meat compared to noodles is perfect. After they’re done, Eddie leads him to the living room again to sit at the couch and wait for a moment. When he comes back he has some sort of chocolate pie on two little plates.  
“French silk chocolate pie. Yet again, figured I’d go with something simple.” Waylon takes a bite, and it’s sweet and chocolatey.  
“You made this?” he asks, surprised. It tastes just like any bakery pie he’s ever had.  
“Yes. It wasn’t too hard. It’s all about passion with food.”  
Waylon smiles at Eddies’ bashful look.  
“Where did you learn to cook?” he asks. Suddenly, Eddie’s shyness is gone, replaced by a blank look. Waylon backtracks. “I mean, you don’t have to tell me.” a minute passes and Eddie is still locked up, looking off at spot on the floor.  
“My mother.” He says, so quietly that Waylon isn’t sure he heard right or not.  
He tries to think of something else to say, but telling by Eddies look, it’s not an easy topic.  
“Oh. Um…well she taught you very well. You’re a wonderful cook, Eddie.”  
Eddie finally looks up, some light once more in his very blue eyes.  
“Thank you Waylon. I guess it’s just been a while since I’ve thought of her. Chris and Richard seem to just inhale my food and leave. They’re not rude about it, but they’ve never asked. I didn’t mean to get all tense.” He explains. Waylon just nods in understanding. He’s used to others not asking too.   
They finish their pieces and of pie sit like that, on the couch facing each other talking for a good while. Waylon learns a little more about Eddies’ mother. She had been a quiet woman, mostly there only when to teach Eddie how to do certain things. She wanted him to be able to take care of himself. Waylon didn’t know whether to feel sad about that or not. Eddie never mentions his father.  
In turn, Waylon tells Eddie about his own family. Divorced, he mostly lived with his dad moving from town to town until they’d settled in Colorado. Waylon worries about how and if he’s going to tell Eddie about his…secret. Not that it’s a secret. Waylon is proud of being Trans (though not happy about it, he’d much rather be a real friggen guy) but it’s not something he brings up with somebody until he knows he can trust them.  
It’s nearly midnight when they find their conversation coming to an end. It’s so easy getting lost in interesting topics with Eddie.  
“I should probably head back. Miles will freak out if I’m the one out late for once.” Waylon says, a genuine smile and laugh to his voice. Eddie finds it very melodic. As they stand, his hand comes up to Waylons’ cheek.  
“I find you very interesting Waylon Park.” He says, looking right into Waylons’ eyes.  
Not sure what to say in return, but blushing all the same, he just shrugs and pulls the hand at his cheek away and grips it. “You are too Eddie. Really, thanks for tonight. It’s nice to get out.”  
“Of course. Waylon, you’re a darling. May I….kiss you?” he asks.   
A multitude of answers swarm Waylons’ mind, but nothing comes out and he just kind of stands there, mouth agape. “E-Eddie, I-“   
-need to tell you something-Is lost within Eddies’ warm lips over Waylons’. There’s a moment of stillness, where Eddie is just pressing his lips to waylons’, soft yet firm. Oh fuck it, Waylon thinks, closing his eyes and pressing back more firmly. Eddie is spurned by that, and suddenly, they’re kissing. Really kissing. Damn, it’s been too long since waylons’ kissed somebody, cause Eddies’ lips are smooth as they mesh with his. Tongues intertwine and both men are panting from loss of breath. But it’s too good to pull away from. All of waylons’ troubles are non-existent in this moment- old insecurities and self-doubt- while for Eddie it’s the most serene thing, to be kissing such a darling. Slowly, and with hesitance, Eddie pulls away with one last nip to waylons’ plump bottom lip.  
For a moment, Waylon feel like he’s drifting, eyes a little glazed and pupils blown. Eddies’ no better off. And then of course, things come crashing back down. Waylon feels guilt, though he has no logical reason to because he can’t fucking help it that he’s probably not what Eddie thinks.  
Oh fuck it, Waylon thinks again. Eddie needs to know.  
“Eddie, look…that was, AMAZING and all, but….I think you should, um, know something. About me.” Eddies’ brows draw up in confusion, worry in his eyes. Waylon takes a deep breath, heart racing, this time in a different kind of nervousness. “I’m Trans, Eddie.”  
“….You’re what?” he asks after a few seconds.  
Waylon starts to freak, but keeps a cool head. He’s done this enough times. Yeah, and the last time, it was Jeremy Blaire dumping you in front of a multitude of people. But Waylon refuses to put Eddie and Jeremy in the same category.  
“Trans, Eddie. I’m…physically a woman…but a man up here.” He says, pointing to his head in a nervous gesture, not sure what to make of Eddies strange expression.  
“Oh. Darling, that’s….why would you do that to yourself?” And suddenly, waylons nervousness is gone. He sees red, and his heart constricts in his chest.  
“Did you. Seriously. Just fucking say that?” he asks, anger, betrayal, hurt all mixed in his voice.   
“Darling, wayl-“ Eddie says, reaching out with a hand to sooth.  
“Just forget it Eddie. And DON’T call me that. I’m just gonna go.” Waylon dodges the hand, moving around eddies’ bulk and towards the front door.  
“Wait, Dar-Waylon. Please. I didn’t mean to offend.” Waylon tries to pull from Eddies grip, but it’s useless as Eddie just turns him around to face him. Waylon can’t even look at him, his eyes getting mistier by the second. Fuck this.  
“Fuck you, Eddie. I was actually having a good time, and you seriously say that? I figured you of all people would understand. But then again, we barely fricken know each other, now don’t we.” He spits out. He just wants to go home and crawl into bed and scream at the injustice of things.  
“No, Waylon. Please, listen.” Eddie says, before he too takes a deep sigh. He lets go of waylons arm and stands before him, a shamed look on his face. Good, Waylon thinks.  
“I didn’t mean for it to come out that way…I’ve just never heard the term before. I should’ve watched what I was saying. Please, help me understand. Why…do you feel like you are a man?”  
Waylon wishes he could stay angry, but Eddies’ stance and voice are non-threatening as someone who was truly being offensive would be.  
“It’s not that easy to explain, Eddie. And it’s not like you’d understand in one night. Just forget it.”  
“No, please Waylon. I truly wish to know. You’re just so, perfect. And you pull off being male so easily.” Eddie says.  
Waylon huffs in agitation, his anger simmering to low boil. “That’s kind of the point, Eddie. I’m far from what I wanna be. But I LIKE being a guy. It’s who I am.” There’s a moment of silence, and Waylon looks up to see Eddie thinking into space. It’s a little weird at first, but already Eddie is looking back at Waylon with the fiercest look.  
“Are you happy?” he asks simply.  
“W…what?”   
“Are you happy then? Being the way you are?”  
Waylon looks right back into Eddie’s eyes, his own becoming hardened with truth. “Yes. I am.” he says. Eddie breaths out, before taking a step closer to Waylon.  
“Ok then. I…don’t get it. But I’m ok with it. I’ll support you Waylon.”  
Waylon stalls for a moment, before narrowing his eyes. “Why the sudden change of heart? How do I know you’re not lying and not just about to tell all your friends and laugh behind my back?” he challenges. Eddie doesn’t falter.  
“Because I like you Waylon. And if it’s what you want, I won’t challenge it. The kiss we had, call me a romantic, or naïve, but there was something there. And if you speak from experience of someone hurting you that way, then I’ll make them pay. They don’t know what they’re missing.”  
Met with so much conviction, Waylon doesn’t know what to say at first.  
“Yeah, it was a nice kiss. I liked you too Eddie, and if you really mean all that, then you’ll let me take some time to think. You kind of lost some of my trust.” If anything, Eddie seems more eager at his words.  
“You’re right to. I’ve been terribly rude. I’ll do anything. Don’t push me away though, please, let me earn that back. I won’t…kiss you or touch you unless you say so. Will just give me another chance, please Waylon?”  
Waylon hesitates. It’s been so long since he’s been able to trust anyone but Miles. And now Eddie already knows, so what would be the harm. He’s sick and tired of feeling alone during a time most are thriving.  
“Alright Eddie. I’m going to go now. I’ll… see you later. On MY terms, ok?”  
Eddie nods. “Of course Dar-Waylon. I’ll be here if you need me.” There’s a sad look on his face, and Waylon can’t stop himself from offering a small hesitant smile towards Eddie, who eats it up and grins the grin Waylon is slowly but surely falling for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus the step back from a possible relationship. oohhh Eddie you're a little naïve, yes. I imagine that the way Eddie grew up like in the canon story (I.E. abusive father, kind of uncaring mother) he wouldn't understand why Waylon want's to be a man, because women are sweet and he kind of has a mother complex. So did I do it ok? The poor boys trying.   
> But don't fret, things get better in the next chapter. Perhaps another date?? Or another murder??? Whooo knows! Not me!  
> Thank you for reading, You're all the bestest.


	4. Lisa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for a Murder. cause who can resist?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah ha. Another chapter for you lovelies. Ye be warned of feels in this chapter. I hope you enjoy.  
> Also, there's a little bit of Jeremy and Waylons past to make sense of some things.  
> WARNING: minor character death and graphic description of gore (?)  
> Don't be too worried, our boys are strong :3

“I still can’t believe that jerk.” Miles huffs, anger pooling from his voice.  
Waylon just ignores him for the millionth time this day. It’s been two days since Waylons’ seen Eddie, and he’s determined to uphold his threat of taking time to think things through. He was still fuming himself over how Eddie reacted, and how a perfect night was ruined yet again because of something he can’t control.   
“Really. I can’t believe that uptight PRUDE-“  
“Miles, I get it. You think you’re mad? I’m the one who had to deal with it. Who STILL has to.” Waylon snaps out. They’re sitting in Waylons’ dorm room, dressed in lounge clothes doing their class work. Waylon is sitting on his bed with his laptop open in his lap, while Miles takes up his desk with newspapers and a notepad. He says he’s trying to mark all relevant articles for a class assignment, but he’s conveniently sitting backwards in the chair, arms crossed over the back, and ignoring his work in order to fume at Waylon about Eddie.   
“Well it still sucks. And it’s not your fault. At all, ok Way?” Miles is now pushing the chair back and forth with his socked toes, the wheels squeaking across the carpet. Waylon has to remember that often times, Miles is just a grown up version of their five year-old selves.  
He tries not to roll his eyes. “Yeah, I know that.” A few minutes pass of silence, the squeak of the wheels on the chair the only noise. To make it stop, Waylon continues. “I said I’d still see him.”  
That works on stopping the irritating noise, thank god.  
“What the hell? Why?” Miles asks in shock.  
“It’ll be on my terms, Miles. I told you, he was pretty sorry…or at least he really seemed so.” Waylon says, almost as an afterthought.  
Miles scoffed, “Yeah. They all are at first. The second they find out about you being Trans they either question you endlessly, or either wanna fuck you as a girl.” Waylon cringes at the harsh words, and Miles immediately regrets them. But he doesn’t take them back. In a lighter tone, he says “I just don’t want this to be like another Jeremy Blaire in your life, Way. I don’t want you going back…to that place.”  
By that place he means…  
It was freshman year, when Waylon and Miles both arrived at Colorado State University. Bright-eyed and ready for a fresh start, Waylon had been so ready for college. After working odd jobs for his hometown computer store when he graduated high school early, college seemed like the perfect change of pace. He was going to DO something with his life. Having Miles tag along was a bonus, the longtime friends’ eager to leave home. Jeremy Blaire had been on the welcoming committee for the freshman, along with one or two others. Almost immediately, Waylon had been taken with Jeremy’s’ open personality- not afraid to speak his mind or tell a rude professor off. He was the life of the party and always had access to the best contacts. To Waylon, who’d grown used to the people of his and Miles small town, such open behavior was like seeing a god.  
Jeremy hadn’t been afraid to go after what he wanted, and at the time, Waylon thought he had truly wanted him. Almost two weeks after meeting, Jeremy asked Waylon out, immediately wrapping his arm around the blondes’ shoulders and making Waylon feel cool for once (and damn it, Miles had always been the cool one back home, so it was Waylon’s turn now!). But it was quickly apparent Jeremy wanted a physical relationship. Waylon wasn’t a stranger to physical contact. He’d had a few flings with women throughout his time in high school (one of them being Lisa, Miles girlfriend as of last year, which left for awkward dinner conversations) but over time had really deemed himself as a demisexual- only attracted after a mental connection is made. He didn’t listen to his instincts though, and went along with Jeremy because of looks and what he’d felt at the time was attraction. It had only been a matter of time till Jeremy pushed enough that Waylon finally told him that he was transgender. He had been cool with it at first, even backing off a bit with the physical contact. But it became apparently clear what Jeremy was really like. He slipped multiple times with his pronouns or called him ‘babe’, often in public, while other times, when Waylon stupidly forgave him and allowed Jeremy to kiss him he’d grope for his breasts and use the excuse that he ‘was just curious’. Waylon didn’t stay in denial long. Jeremy was using Waylon, and when Waylon finally grew the balls to dump him, Jeremy had made a big scene in front of everyone in the cafeteria and called him multiple female terms that anyone would be offended by. Let’s just say, after Miles jumped in and beat the shit out of Jeremy, Waylon threw in a few of his own punches and gladly left the jerk.  
That night though, Miles could be found holding a crying Waylon in their dorms and fuming about jackasses and what he’d like to do to them all. He made Waylon smile and laugh a little, but the pain of being used and degraded like Jeremy had made him feel left him hollow. Over time, Miles was enough to pull him out of it. Ever since, Waylon has stayed away from dating all together, only focusing on what he should have been back then. Getting passing grades and saving for his future sex-change surgeries.  
Thus, led them here, once more discussing if it was healthy for Waylon to be seeing someone. He told himself that he was only giving Eddie a chance, that they could just stay friends and that’d be enough.  
Waylon sighs, setting his computer off to the side and pulls his legs up to his chest and circles them with his arms.  
“I know Miles. But I’ll be fine. I promise.” Miles didn’t look like he believed him, but with these two, it was more about trust. Miles just had to trust him. And Waylon had to trust himself.  
OoOoOoOoOo  
The next day found miles and Waylon walking across the campus grounds towards their classes. Miles had an Editorial class, and Waylon Software. The weather had turned cold within the last two days, their breaths visible in the morning air. Miles was wearing his favorite brown leather jacket (that was surprisingly warm) and Waylon a plain black faux-fur lined jacket. They walked briskly, bags on shoulders, Miles’ camera swinging from his neck. It was just another normal day. Cloudy skies with a breeze, other students milling about or going to their own classes, and thoughts heavy with the days assignments.  
Then a scream.  
It carried out over the campus through the thin air, and Waylon jumped at the suddenness. It sounded close.  
“Wonder what that….was.” Waylon was saying, till he turned and saw Miles running off towards where the scream came, camera in hand. “Great.” He said to himself.  
Curious though, he followed- not quite running but eager to keep up with Miles. When he finally did, others were crowding around, Miles right at the center, his back to Waylon along with everyone else. His damnable short stature was blocked from whatever was going on on the other side. So instead, he tried to listen.  
“-Is that really…”  
“-Oh god, that’s disgusting.”  
“-Who is it…”  
“-isa.”  
“I think that’s Lisa Genkins.”  
The murmuring and whispers continued, but still Waylon couldn’t see anything going on. He heard Lisa multiple times, and it was starting to concern him. But it couldn’t really be her, right? What about Lisa?  
Finally, a space was made when someone pushed through and rushed past Waylon, and he distinctly heard a retching sound. A little grossed out, Waylon made his way to Miles, who was crouching now, his camera shutter sounding off. And finally, Waylon saw what everyone else was looking at.  
He himself had to hold in his breakfast. Before them, lying on the cold ground was Lisas’ body. Or what was left of it. It was still too early for any smell or bugs to have taken over, but the sight was enough of a deterrent. Her body was lying at an odd angle on its side, as if it had just been thrown there. The most noticeable thing was that her legs were gone. Bone stuck out at the top of her thighs, uneven and sharp, her pants soaked through with dried blood- as if they were snapped off. Her shirt was still on, but it was torn in the front, showing her pink bra that was ripped down the middle, exposing her chest. Or really…what was her chest. Shuddering, Waylon just couldn’t look away. Her chest looked torn open, deep gashes under where her plump breasts would have been, and now they just seemed empty and flat, blood coating her entire stomach and neck. Just looking made his own chest ache, and he tried to look away, but only managed to make it as far as her face. A bad mistake. Like the rest of her body, it was nearly unrecognizable. There were more cuts along her neck and cheeks, and her nose looked crooked and deformed. One eye was swollen shut from bruising, but the other was open, staring with an eerily blank look- glassy and just dead. Her head was tilted towards them, and it left an eerie feeling, her eye focused on him.  
As hard as he tried, he just couldn’t believe what he was seeing. That Lisa was…oh god. Oh god. She had been so sweet, yet strong spoken and independent. She had helped Waylon understand that it was ok to be open around others. And when Miles had started dating her, they seemed so happy and- oh no. MILES. Miles, who was still crouching next to Waylon, camera hiding his face as it took pictures of the scene before them. People where still gathering from around the campus, the commotion drawing attention. Someone was shouting out to call the Dean.  
Waylon snapped out of his shock, as much as he could, and leaned down to talk to Miles.  
“Miles. C’mon buddy. I think we should go. The Dean, and Cops-they’re on their way. They’re gonna want to talk to you.” he said gently, gripping Miles shoulder. The shutter of his camera stopped, but he continued to look through the lens. At Lisa. He was silent. “Miles, c’mon now. It’s-I think we should go sit somewhere for the police. Right over-“  
“It was him.” Miles cut in with his voice low. Waylon froze in confusion for a second, before asking in a quiet tone, “Who?”  
“It was him. The murderer. He killed her. I just know it. I just know it.” He was saying, his camera finally lowering to reveal a tearstained face. Oh Miles…  
“Miles, c’mon. Let’s sit over-“yet again, he’s cut off by Miles suddenly standing, before pushing through the growing crowd and away from the body of his girlfriend. Waylon hurries to follow, shouting Miles’ name to slow him down. Miles doesn’t stop till they’re a good few yards away. Waylon pants a little, the chill in the air completely unnoticeable to both men. “Miles, are you…are you gonna be ok?” he asks timidly. He knows it’s a stupid question, but regardless, he has to ask. He knows how close he was with Lisa.  
“I won’t let him get away with this one. Not again.” He’s saying as he paces back and forth.  
Confused, and more than worried, Waylon asks, “Who Miles? The Murderer? I thought-“  
“I haven’t found anything on him. Nothing. There’s all these bodies and all these clues, but they lead to NOTHING, fucking nothing. But not this time. I’m gonna find him. I’m gonna out the bastard and post it for the world to see. I have pictures, proof. They can’t deny it at the press now. They’ll have to run the story. There’s witnesses.” He’s saying in a rush, while gesturing to the crowd of students. Red and blue lights are flashing in the distance, but there’s not any sound because the body is already dead, Waylon morbidly thinks. Because LISA’S dead.  
To an outsiders view, Miles looks relatively put together, but Waylons’ known Miles for most of his life, and he can see how he’s falling apart on the inside. The tears have stopped, but his eyes are still wet, and his hands are shaking slightly as he runs them through his hair in a nervous manner.  
“Miles.” Waylon says, trying to get his attention. It doesn’t work, and he’s still pacing around like a caged animal. “Miles.” He says in a slightly louder tone. It works, and Miles slowly calms enough to drop his hands and face Waylon. His face is pale and his features drawn. Waylon just looks at him, willing sympathy and caring-ness to reach through them to Miles. His best friend is losing it, and it’s all Waylon can do to not lock his friend away from all the pain of the world.  
Miles takes a shuddering breath, and nods at Waylon in understanding. Waylon knows that he got what his look meant. “I need to go. I’m gonna…start on…getting all the facts down.” Miles turns to leave.  
“I’ll help.” Waylon starts to follow, but is stopped when Miles turns around and places a hand on his shoulder, a hard look in his eyes.  
“No Waylon. Not…not right now. I need to do this on my own. At least, in this case. For...her,” Lisa, he doesn’t say “and I can’t do that with you worrying over my shoulder. I know she was your friend too. You should…properly mourn her. I can’t do this like a normal person. I need to work. Solve this once and for all.” He says, a kind of sadness in his voice.  
Waylon nods. “I understand. I’ll, uh…let you know if the police want to talk to you. I’m here to help, so use me. And yeah, I think I’ll take some time for her. She…deserves that. And for you to find the killer.” Miles gives a smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes for once, but there’s definitely determination there. If anyone can find her killer, it’s Miles.  
Miles leaves, long strides to escape the madness of the scene behind them. Waylon wishes he could do the same, but he’s given himself the responsibility to watch after Lisa’s’ body and answer the polices’ questions.  
It’s gonna be a long fucking night.  
He never does see the large shadow mere feet away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, how'd this turn out?? was it ok? augh, so who's the shadow???  
>  Is it Santa? the Easter bunny? or maybe our killer??   
> :3 I guess we'll have to see. Mwhahahahaha.  
> also, I love you guys and your comments, kudos, and bookmarks. Makes me so happy, even in the midst of murder.


	5. Getting there

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waylon and Eddie talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So So So So sorry for the delay. I don't have internet at home, and with finals coming up, I'm not at school a lot for it. so a chapter, Kinda boring but I swear all the juicy (Hint hint) stuff starts in the next chapter! I really appreciate all the support for this story, I'm trying my best to make it a good one, and more than just smut (which, umm, there will be later on. I swear to those who want it.) So thank you for your patience, and enjoy Waylon and Eddies little talk!...cause really, that's all that happens this chapter....

Waylon sat at the local coffee shop after yet another day of failure.  
Hanging around campus since Lisas’ death was difficult, the atmosphere suffocating in sadness. A lot of people had liked her, unsurprisingly. Miles has been holed up the past two days, only coming away from his work to eat quickly and quietly when Waylon reminds him and to use the restroom. But there was only so much Miles could look into without going directly to the police. From what Waylon’s gathered, they were no better off in the investigation. Miles kept insisting they weren’t even trying.  
Waylon sighed, a deep forlorn sound. He wished he could disagree with Miles; believe in the justice system and all. But if all those deaths from before (five to be exact, all tourists, they found out later that first night of Miles research binge) haven’t been acknowledged or solved, then something is going on in this small town.  
Just as Waylon takes another sip of his much needed coffee, watching the morning traffic of the shop go by, he spots the tall figure of Eddie at the register. Not sure if Eddie’s spotted him yet, Waylon takes the chance to look. It’s been about a week since he’s talked or seen the man, and he’s hard pressed to say he doesn’t miss him. From just the handful of time they’ve spent together (including the kiss and awful scene afterwards) he still feels like there’s something there between them.  
Waylon doesn’t realize he’s staring until Eddie turns around after receiving his own drink, and stalls when he spots the smaller man sitting by a window seat. Eddie looks like he wants to come over, a look of confliction on his handsome face. Waylon takes pity on the poor guy, and twitches his lips into what he hopes is relatively close to a smile. Eddie doesn’t come right away, a look of hesitance still, before he shakes it off and walks over to Waylon with quick strides. Waylon notes the relatively casual clothing Eddie is wearing- a heavy looking black wool coat adorns his broad shoulders, and a red scarf wrapped around his neck. Even in winter clothes, the man still looked regal.  
“Er, hello, Waylon.” Eddie says, hesitant.  
“Hi, Eddie.” He replies, just as stilted. “Um…take a seat. It’s been….a while?” he says, almost more of a question.  
Eddie gives a small smile and nods. “Yes, it has. Though it’s entirely to be blamed on me. I feared you’d never want to look at me again, honestly.”  
“Oh, well um. I wouldn’t say THAT exactly. I was, still am a little bit, angry. But I think it’s been enough time to let it settle.” He says. Eddie nods, his face brightening and it has nothing to do with the sun breaking through the clouds outside, but Waylon adds on, “Not completely though. I AM still upset at what you said.”  
“I understand. I… was out of line. I do hope that someday you’ll forgive me. I rather liked what we had before I messed up.” Eddie says, and Waylons’ surprised to see red spreading across his cheeks.   
Waylon clears his throat in his own shyness, and takes a sip of his drink to play it off as just a scratchy throat. “I can….agree with that.” He says, almost too quiet for Eddie to hear. But he does, and in his own shyness looks away. They sit in almost-awkward-almost-nice quiet for a couple minutes, with Waylon looking into the dark liquid of his cup like it held all the answers to his problems, while Eddie discretely gazed at the blonds face. The sun shining through the window cast a halo of light off Waylon’s hair, and Eddie very much wanted to feel if it was as soft as it looked. But looking down, he noticed that the rest of Waylon wasn’t as bright, though no less beautiful. There were dark circles under his bright eyes, red rimmed as if he had been crying, or sleepless. His posture was huddled in as well, but Eddie didn’t know if that was natural for Waylon because of his anatomy (that Eddie was coming around to understand Waylon didn’t want) or because of lack of rest.  
“I heard about Lisa. I’m sorry that that happened to her.”  
Eddies’ words pull Waylon out of his head and he looks up at the other man, seeing nothing but a sincere expression. He hesitates before answering. “It’s…hard. I’m not quite sure what to think with her gone. I mean, we had a thing way back when, but since we started School here, and once she started seeing Miles, I saw even less of her. I should’ve…should’ve paid more attention. She was such a good person….” Waylon says softly, almost to himself. He realizes Eddie was listening, and can’t help but look away.  
“Perhaps. But then it would make her passing even harder now.” Eddie says. Waylon looks up, a snappish reply at the ready, before he’s stopped. “I speak from experience.”  
Not sure what to say to that, he just stammers, “Y-yeah? How, how so?”  
Eddie says nothing if he thinks the question is rude or invasive, just gets this faraway look in his eyes. “When my mother passed. We had just started getting along- she became less strict and gave me more freedom from chores, sat with me late into the nights, comforting me. Got me out more, away from hi-“ he stops suddenly, his eyes focusing back on Waylon. “She died just as we were planning on going away, just the two of us. Sometimes I still wonder if losing her before we started connecting would have been easier.”  
Waylon looks at Eddie in shock, not sure what to say to that. “Eddie…I’m so sorry. That’s terrible.”  
“It’s old wounds my dear. Your friend however…well I’m just saying I sympathize.” Eddie says, a sad look in his eyes, much like in Waylon’s.   
“I’m more worried about Miles. He’s…been cooped up all this time, trying to figure out what happened to her. Researching…who would do that to her?” he says the last part under his breath, grief striking again, making his throat feel tight. Eddie seems to have only caught the first part, and a look passes over his face before Waylon catches it.  
“He’s looking into her death?” he asks, seeming surprised.  
“Um. Well yeah. But the only thing he’s found so far are times and dates. Like where she was before…stuff like that. I’m really sure. He’s more the journalist, finding-stuff out one. I’m just there for backup and to remind him to actually sleep.”  
“He tells you when he finds out new things, then?” Waylon takes in Eddies’ strange question, but shakes off the initial doubt.  
“Yeah, he does. Why do you ask? If-“  
“No, no. I was just wondering. I would…be glad to help. Perhaps you’d be willing to tell me when he comes up with new information? I know this campus pretty well, and the people. Please, I wish to help him. And you, of course.” Eddie says, in a rush, but calmly and sincerely as possible.  
“Oh,” Waylon says, surprised. “I guess I didn’t think of that. Miles either. It would be nice to have an extra pair of eyes and ears around. He might take some convincing though- he’s determined to figure this out on his own. For her, you know?”  
“Well he doesn’t have to know, does he?” Eddie says with a quirked eyebrow and mischievous look at Waylon.   
He can’t stop the smirk that comes to his face. “Yeah. I mean, it’s not like it’ll hurt him.” Waylon lightly jokes. For such a heavy topic, Eddie makes it less sad. Just his presence demands your attention, but Waylons’ finding it pretty hard to be mad about.  
After agreeing on keeping in touch, and letting Eddie know if Miles finds out any leads, the two leave on a good note- and Waylon just a little more hopeful of finding Lisas’ killer.  
OoOoOoOoOoOo  
When Eddie leaves in the other direction, he pulls out an old, slightly used phone, dialed a well-known number, and as soon as the dial tone stops and a voice begins to answer, he says, “We may have some trouble, my friend. I believe it’s time to move forward with the plan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooooo, what do you think? Is it Santa on the other line again? I knew he was fishy. Always giving me coal for Christmas. I really hope to get the next chapter up soon, but I can only do it when I have internet, so in advance, I'm so sorry for the wait. thank you, again, for all the love and support! you guys make this story happen!

**Author's Note:**

> OK, whew. That's one chapter down, and like, maybe three more to go. I actually plan on finishing this story (unlike my others, sadly). I hope you liked it, and the characters weren't to out of character. Drop a Kudos or comment on your way out, I love other peoples thoughts!!  
> *Also, let me know of any spelling errors, this is un-betad :(*


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